Sunday, February 28, 2016

‘An understatement if ever there was one,’ said Garovel. ‘Having witnessed it first hand, words can’t really express how awful it was. For a while, there was a widely prevailing belief that humanity was just... done. Hell, even I was starting to think so. It genuinely felt like the end of the world, at times.’

‘Really? Even though servants couldn’t be killed by it?’

‘I never said my belief was entirely rational. You have to understand--it was like being in a nightmare. Literally, it felt like that. Surreal. Because, just, everywhere I went, people were suffering and dying. And I went to a LOT of a places. The Great Green Sickness ravaged all of Eloa and Ardora and most of Qenghis. Eventually, though, I did find out that Luugh had made it through untouched.’

‘Damn. What about the Undercrust?’

‘Untouched as well. But that’s not so surprising, I guess. Anyway, the point I was getting at, was that possibly the worst pandemic that humanity has ever known occurred while the Sandlords were widely practicing incest.’

‘Ah... that means... what does that mean?’

‘It means that genetic variation within their ranks was at an all-time low. None of them were immune--or even mildly resistant, for that matter. So the plague simply DECIMATED them. Every single non-servant among the Sandlords was dead in under six months.’

‘Holy fuck...’

‘Holy fuck, indeed,’ said Garovel.

Another question occurred to Hector, and he figured he should ask it before Garovel started blabbering on about something else. ‘When was Rasalased in relation to all this? I mean, when did he... er, happen?’

‘Oh, he was born right before all this shit went down.’

‘Really? Does that mean he’s... uh...?’

‘A product of incest? Possibly. I don’t know. I bet Qorvass would, but let’s avoid bringing it up, shall we? He might not appreciate us asking that kind of question about one of his most beloved ancestors.’

Saturday, February 27, 2016

‘No, it did not,’ said Garovel, ‘and for two big reasons, madness being the first. There were a LOT of insane Sandlords who cropped up during this time period. And a few of them were fun. Or even brilliant. In fact, one of them built Dunehall. Others, though... not so much. They started to fight--sometimes with each other--and frequently neglected their subjects. Or worse. The most famous example was probably the family that began a tradition of cannibalism.’

‘Whoa, what?’

‘Hahl Rahhak. They don’t exist anymore.’

‘That’s good, I guess. They really ate people, though?’

‘Yup. Story goes, a famine gripped their land for several years, so they resorted to cannibalism as a means of coping. But then the famine ended... and they just kept on eating people, anyway. Acquired a taste for it, apparently.’

‘Ugh, wow...’

‘Yeah. The story of how that family was finally destroyed is pretty interesting, too. It was an elaborate plot of Hahl Duxan--which does still survive to this day, by the way. And it was pretty dastardly on their part, I must say. But in a good way, y’know? Since the Rahhaks were a bunch of man-eating assholes ‘n all. I guess I should give some context on the conflict between the two families, though. Basically, it started when the head of Hahl Duxan allowed the Rahhaks and many of their subjects to take refuge in--’

‘Hey, ah, hold on,’ said Hector, sensing that this tangent was going to derail the conversation entirely, ‘what about the second thing?’

‘What second thing?’

‘With, um... how all the incest stuff ended badly?’

‘Oh! Right. Yeah. Insanity was the first reason. The second reason, you probably know already. Ever heard of the Wiseman’s Plague?’

‘Anyway,’ said Garovel, ‘the point I was trying to make was that the Sandlord’s divine ability used to be even more important than it is nowadays. It was how Sandlord families distinguished themselves from the “common folk,” as it were. It was a really crazy time, actually. A poor family could, literally, be propelled into the upper class overnight if one of their bloodline manifested the ability.’

‘Whoa...’

‘Naturally, this created all sorts of chaos. Fraudsters and the like tried to capitalize, if only to flee the country with a handful of riches. It didn’t usually work out well for them. We’re talkin’ public executions with barely even a trial. Beheadings, torture, tying people to a post until the sun cooked them to death. The Sandlords’ displeasure with such criminals became pretty well known, even in distant countries.’

Hector didn’t have a hard time believing that.

‘So of course, the Sandlords became very suspicious of others and, well, elitist. Even more than they already were, that is. When everyone considers your bloodline “divine,” I imagine it’s pretty difficult not to get at least a little full of yourself. And it just grew worse over time. The Sandlords became more and more isolated from society.’

‘Which is where incest factors in?’ Hector guessed.

‘Basically, yeah. Trying to keep their precious bloodlines as “pure” as possible.’

‘Right...’

‘There was about a 150-year time period where incest was commonly practiced among the Sandlords, and at its peak, some Hahls were so paranoid that they wouldn’t even allow marriage with any of the other Hahls. They would actually force siblings or first cousins to marry, and it would be treated like a status symbol.’

‘Wait... You’re not just telling me all this because you wanna give me another history lesson, are you?’

‘Hey, I’m not telling you anything that isn’t true. If a history lesson just evolves organically out of my own scholarly truthfulness, then who are we to go against that? Is that what you want, Hector? To go against the laws of nature?’

‘...“Truthfulness,” huh? I seem to recall you lying right to my face not too long ago.’

‘Oh, yes, well, exemptions from the truth can be made when something is hilarious. Everyone knows that.’

‘It wasn’t hilarious.’

‘It was to me.’

‘I’m gonna get you back for that, by the way.’

‘I’m shaking in my nonexistent boots.’

Hector just sighed. At least he was almost done loading up the old man’s car.

‘So do you want my history lesson or not? It’s super interesting. You’ll like it. C’mon.’

‘Okay, so back in the day--we’re talking, oh, 1700 years ago or so--a little group emerged from the then-very-powerful Valgan Empire. You may have even heard of this little group. They were called the Sandlords.’

‘Nope, never heard of ‘em.’

‘Their rise to power was facilitated by the discovery of their “divine ability.” You know the one.’

‘Explain that to me again.’

‘Well, it’s the materialization that Asad--’

‘I was joking, Garovel.’

‘Never joke about asking me to explain something, because I will always take you seriously and explain the shit out of it, just in case.’

Monday, February 15, 2016

Hector didn’t stay with the young family for much longer. There were still others in need of assistance, but the encounter certainly left a lasting impression on him. Hector had been a bit reluctant to ask Garovel for more details, but now he was simply growing too curious.

As he was helping a similarly-branded old man with a large stack of boxes, Hector had to ask, ‘Can you tell what crime these people committed? I mean, like, does the brand specify or something?’

‘Yes, it does.’ Garovel allowed an appreciable pause. ‘This guy you’re helping now defaulted on a loan from the state.’

Hector had to stop and look at Garovel. ‘What?’

‘The Sandlords take debt very seriously. If you fail to pay off your debts, you’re considered untrustworthy. It’s a pretty strict cultural taboo.’

Hector eyed the old Moabani man another time. If anything, Hector felt even worse for him. The brand didn’t exactly look recent, and the old man looked about seventy years old or so. After a moment, though, Hector set back to work loading boxes into the back of the old man’s station wagon.

‘So that couple we helped earlier couldn’t pay off their loans, either?’ asked Hector. ‘That’s horrible. They’re so young, and this is gonna follow them for the rest of their lives?’

‘Yep. But their brands weren’t for debt. Women can’t be branded for debt. Only men can.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Well, it used to be that women couldn’t even take out loans in the first place. These days, though, they can. And the branding laws haven’t changed to account for them. Which, I suppose, is a good thing. Sort of. It created a new kind of gender inequality, which is unfortunate, but the branding laws are pretty fucked up in the first place, so. It’s good that more people aren’t getting branded, at least.’

Friday, February 12, 2016

When he asked Garovel about it, the reaper was able to explain further. The brand meant that these people had broken the law in some way, and if they ever attempted to conceal their brands, they would probably be beaten or arrested, depending on local law or custom.

It made Hector wonder what this young couple could have done to earn such a harsh punishment. They looked harmless enough to him--both very gaunt with wary eyes, as if they expected Hector to turn on them at any moment. Their baby certainly looked plump and healthy, though.

He never exchanged a single word with them. They probably didn’t speak Mohssian, he figured. He was content to leave at that and be on his way, but as he turned to go, the husband raised his voice and began speaking in Valgan.

‘He’s saying you smell like the inside of an old diaper,’ said Garovel.

Hector had to stop himself from squinting.

The baby-holding husband came closer and grabbed Hector’s hand, shaking it up and down while nodding furiously. He looked like he might start crying.

‘He’s telling you to go eat your own shit forever. Like an ouroboros made of your own feces. Man, this guy sure has a mouth on him.’

The husband let him go, making room for the wife to come in and wrap her arms around him.

‘Yeah, she hates you, too. She’s not really saying, but I can just tell.’

The woman was sobbing into Hector’s shirt now.

Hector just kind of stood there, trying not to move. This was way more physical contact than he’d bargained for, but he was hoping he could just clear his mind and wait it out.

It took a while, but she did eventually release him.

Hector remained frozen there, trying not to look traumatized by a hug.

Thursday, February 11, 2016

Hector and Garovel had discussed the subject of Chergoa already and come to the difficult conclusion that there wasn’t anything they could do to help her right now. Garovel didn’t show it much, but Hector was pretty sure that he was extremely worried about her. The telling trait was how closely Garovel followed everything that Zeff was up to, because if anyone was going to find Emiliana and Chergoa, it was Zeff.

‘Hold on,’ said Garovel. ‘So you would’ve invited the Rainlords to Warrenhold even if I’d told you not to?’

‘Uh...’

‘Here I am, trying to be cautious and think through all the possible consequences of our actions, and you’re just jumping in headfirst, not even giving a shit.’

‘I gave a shit. I was thinking, maybe... I mean, maybe they could help us rebuild Warrenhold. If they want.’

‘Yeah, maybe. Or bringing so many people there at once will become total chaos. Or the Queen will get upset at us for not consulting her first.’

‘...Should we try and call her?’

‘Hell no. What if she tells us not to do it?’

It didn’t take much longer to finish loading up the Moabani family’s truck. They’d only needed help with the big things, and they didn’t seem to own very much in the first place.

Hector didn’t think that was a coincidence. Sure, they weren’t much older than he was, but at this point in the evacuation, there weren’t many people left in Moaban, and he’d begun to notice a trend among many of those who remained.

They all bore a distinctive mark on their left cheek.

At first, he didn’t think much of it. Maybe it was some kind of popular tattoo--maybe like Asad. But then he saw the way other people were looking at them. Avoiding. It wasn’t a tattoo. It was a brand. And it was intended to humiliate them.

Garovel had been noticeably preoccupied as well. Hector sometimes caught the reaper lost in thought, and whenever he asked about it, Garovel avoided elaborating. At first, Hector chalked it up to worrying about Chergoa, but after it kept happening, Hector decided to push harder.

‘Alright, alright,’ Garovel finally said. ‘I’ve just been thinking about our next move.’

‘Well, me too,’ said Hector. ‘There’s no reason for you to be all coy about it.’

‘I wasn’t being coy. I was being careful.’

‘...Somehow, I doubt that.’

‘Hey, fuck you. I’m being serious here. There are a lot of gears in motion all around us right now. A lot of things to take into consideration.’

Hector thought about giving him more crap but decided to just keep listening as he lifted a young family’s couch onto the back of a flatbed truck.

‘We might have an opportunity to do something that would have a big impact on a lot of people,’ said Garovel. ‘There’s a very good chance that the Sandlords will try to send the Rainlords away. Maybe helping them go into hiding, maybe just flat out exiling them. In either case, we have a place where they can lay low for a while, don’t we? We should invite them.’

Hector stopped in front of the couple’s old refrigerator and spared Garovel a glance. ‘Uh... well, actually, I was planning on doing that, anyway.’

‘What? Are you serious?’

Hector hugged the fridge tightly and lifted it. ‘Yeah.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner?’

‘Er... I thought you’d disapprove, considering we only met them like two weeks ago or something.’

‘Ah, well, that’s true, but I also have Chergoa’s judgment to go on. She obviously trusted the Rainlords enough to join up with them, and I trust her, so by extension, I think we can consider them trustworthy, too. And if they do end up betraying us someday, I’ll just blame her forever.’

Tuesday, February 9, 2016

House Blackburn was having its share of fresh troubles as well. With Ismael dead, Darktide unconscious, and Ibai missing, the person who everyone expected to lead them was Lady Nere. But apparently, the woman had suffered a nervous breakdown, and now the family was in disarray. Garovel hadn’t been able to get all of the details yet.

And then, of course, there were the Elroys.

Quite possibly, Zeff looked worse than anyone. He didn’t just have bags under his eyes. He had bags around his eyes, as if the upper half of his face were trying to sink into itself.

Hector thought he felt tired. Zeff looked like he never intended to let himself fall asleep ever again.

Before Hector had even made it back to Dunehall with Abbas, Zeff had gone off in search of his children. After a few hours, he returned with Marcos and Ramira, who was finally able to receive proper medical attention for the wound on her foot. Since then, Zeff had been going out periodically in search of Emiliana. Hector, among others, had even accompanied him a few times.

But finally, it seemed, the Lord Elroy had given up. For the time being, anyway. Hector didn’t imagine he would ever really stop looking. It was probably just a matter of finding some kind of lead.

Currently, though, Zeff wasn’t letting Marcos and Ramira out of his sight. He would even bring them to meetings with him, despite the looks of disapproval from various Sandlords.

All in all, Hector had never seen so many devastated people in one place. The somber air was so heavy among the Rainlord encampments that Hector could practically feel it on his bare skin, as if their sorrow had somehow manifested physical weight.

Though, maybe it had. Garovel said that these were just the effects of normal human empathy, but Hector wasn’t entirely convinced. At this point, he wouldn’t have been surprised if soul power played some subtle part here, too.

Monday, February 8, 2016

Primarily, though, the subject causing Hector the most concern was not himself. It was the Rainlords. Or rather, what would become of them. Several more Sandlords had arrived in Moaban not long after Abbas, and despite how supportive they’d been so far, Hector had seen the discontent in their ranks.

Those were the meetings that Hector was the most interested in. He’d been dreading what the Sandlords would decide to do--not just with the battered Rainlords but with Asad, too. And it didn’t help that so many of them were still unconscious.

Or dead.

Xuan Sebolt and Ismael Blackburn had not been the only losses that the Rainlords had suffered. Far from it, Hector had learned. Caster and Ivan had not been the only big threats in Dunehall that day. Hector had since heard about two other terrible opponents who were present, only one of which the Rainlords had managed to kill--through the combined efforts of Salvador Delaguna, Joana Cortes, Diego Redwater, and Horatio Blackburn.

But even that feat had not been accomplished before the Lord Delaguna lost his wife Elba and his son Lorenzo--both of them, along with seventeen of the man’s cousins, nephews, and nieces.

Word was, emergence had factored into that fight enormously, and Hector didn’t doubt it--especially after seeing for himself how vacant-eyed Salvador had become. He seemed like a totally different person, compared to the raucous man that had laughed while testing him in Luzo.

And yet, even with how badly House Delaguna had been hit, House Sebolt had been hit even harder.

Among the family’s thirty-nine casualties, Lord Abel and Lady Amaya had both been among them. Xuan, too, of course. Dimas, however, was still alive, though he had not yet awoken.

Between trying to help people out of the city and all the meetings where his presence was requested, Hector didn’t find much time for sleeping or even eating--though the latter wasn’t so much of an issue after the first day, because the Moabanis just started giving him food. They were rather enthusiastic about it as well, even getting into arguments over it.

Apparently, word about the young black lord from a foreign land had gotten around, and now he couldn’t go anywhere without people recognizing him. It was even worse than back home. At least in Gray Rock, his skin color didn’t immediately give away who he was. Hector wasn’t sure he’d seen even just one other black person since he’d arrived in this country. There had to have been someone in the Golden Fort, though, he figured. That place was packed.

Still, at least all the attention wasn’t negative. As painfully embarrassing, uncomfortable, and distracting as it all was, it did feel pretty nice, at times. He just wished that he could hide in his armor again. That would have made it a little more bearable.

He’d been hoping that his materialization would just snap back to how it was before, but so far, no such luck. It didn’t seem to matter how hard he concentrated; at the moment, all he could produce was a bit of powder.

When he’d been in Ivan’s presence, he could have attributed the sudden weakness of his materialization to the Salesman’s insanely oppressive soul power, but that couldn’t be the explanation now. Garovel didn’t have any relevant knowledge on the subject either, sadly, which only made Hector even more convinced that this was Rasalased’s doing. To what end, remained to be seen, but Hector was trying to give the ancient Sandlord the benefit of the doubt. Surely, this was as intended. Rasalased wouldn’t have screwed him over like this... probably.

He tried not to dwell on it too much. Time would tell. Or at least, that’s what Garovel told him.

Hector certainly had his hands full over the next few days. Due to the almost complete destruction of Dunehall, along with Moaban’s geographical isolation, the city had been deemed unfit for civilians, and the Sandlords had issued a mass evacuation. More than three hundred thousand people were in the process of relocating south to Egas.

“Threats, now?” said Vanderberk. “You’re being very stupid. Think about our circumstances for a moment. It’s you, me, Jercash, Morgunov, and Dozer. That’s all we’ve got right now. What if the Vannies decide to take advantage? Hmm? What if they launch a full-scale assault tomorrow? Or next week? The five of us would have to repel the eight of them. Do you honestly not see the importance of freeing Ivan as soon as possible?”

Gohvis did not answer him.

Emiliana felt the air grow heavier still.

Vanderberk smacked his lips again. “Fine. You don’t consider me your equal yet. Comes with being the new guy, I suppose. But tell me. What about the Star? Is he your equal, you think? Because I imagine he’d like to put that to the test. And sometime soon, am I right? I mean, after Horsht and Jesbol, he must be feeling very good about himself. And oh, I have heard such tales! About how he tore your boys to pieces! Gunny and Dunny both! Always thought they were two peas in a pod, so I suppose it’s only fitting that they went out together like that--but by the Star? Of all people? Oof, it must be eating you up inside.”

The air grew heavy enough that Emiliana felt like a thick blanket had been thrown over her. She heard rocks shifting and settling all around them.

“Oh, is that right? Is that why you’ve been sitting on your ass this whole time instead of avenging them? Why you’re not en route to Jesbol right now in order to make things right? Because they weren’t your friends? Because Dozer doesn’t care that two of his top three were killed in one night? Doesn’t mind how weak that makes him look--especially to us? No, sure, I get it. Obviously. Makes total sense. It’s certainly not because you’re scared or anything like that, right?”

“That is a shame, but I do think this takes precedence. And I’m sure the others would agree with me. You and I are the closest to Kuros right now, therefore it falls to us to take care of this as quickly as possible. Come.”

“No.”

Emiliana felt the atmosphere shift. The ensuing period of silence was abruptly heavier.

“I’m sure it won’t take long,” said Vanderberk. “Between the two of us--”

“No.”

Vanderberk smacked his lips and scratched his forehead. “See, when you say things like that, it makes you look suspicious. Either that, or it makes me think that you don’t respect me as your equal.”

“I don’t.”

Vanderberk’s face scrunched up. “Bold words, considering it’s just you and the old man now. The two of you are running low on reliable friends. Doesn’t make much sense for you to be treating me this way.”

Gohvis finally deigned to stand all the way up and look at the man. Even in this relatively high sunlight, the Monster’s giant shadow reached almost all the way to Vanderberk. “Have I hurt your feelings? Perhaps obliterating another orphanage will dry your tears.”

Saturday, February 6, 2016

It was another man, Emiliana saw. He dropped out of the sky in a flurry of wind, stopping in mid-air, just above the ground. A gusty wave passed over Emiliana, rustling her hair and clothes and stealing the breath from her mouth for a few moments.

“Kind of you to wait up for me,” the man said in two voices.

Gohvis hadn’t bothered to turn around and look at him. He remained crouched in front of Emiliana as he said, “Why are you following me, Vanderberk?”

“You don’t already know? I figured that was why you stopped. To clear the air.”

“Clear it of what?”

Vanderberk paused to look at Gohvis’ guests, and Emiliana observed him in return. He seemed normal enough. Perhaps too normal. His flip-flops, tie-dyed shirt, and knee-length shorts didn’t exactly make him look like a typical member of Abolish. Assuming he was one, of course--but Emiliana was reasonably certain about that, considering the way he and Gohvis were talking to each other.

“You must know how this looks,” said Vanderberk. “Ivan having just been captured, you coming from the direction of Sair--where, apparently, you attacked some of Ivan’s men. Until you stopped to talk to me, I was worried that you might be fleeing the scene of some foul treason you’d committed.”

Gohvis still didn’t turn around. “And?”

“Hmph. And... I’m just wondering what you’re doing out here. Where you’re headed. And why.”

“It doesn’t concern you.”

“No? I’m not sure about that. See, the report is that Ivan was captured by one Abbas Saqqaf. One of the Sandlords. Curious thing about that, though, is that according to our intelligence--the Salesman’s own teams--Abbas Saqqaf should not be capable of such a thing. Supposedly, he was using some type of suit of armor, but even still. It’s quite the unexpected development, wouldn’t you agree?”

Ibai did as she asked, but he didn’t look disappointed, as she might have expected. Perhaps he’d just been trying to revive the conversation.

Emiliana decided to try a different approach. “Why are you with Abolish?”

The Monster tilted his head at her.

She understood his reaction. The question probably wasn’t contextually appropriate. But this calmness was playing on her, it seemed. She wanted to get a better idea of what she was dealing with here, of who she was dealing with. If rumors were to be believed, this thing standing before her was without humanity or mercy, more like a force of nature than a human being.

Though, to be fair, as she looked at him, she could certainly see where those rumors had come from.

“You do not seem so terrible,” Emiliana went on, wondering if she was pushing her luck here. She felt like she had a bit of leverage to work with, though she couldn’t tell how much.

“What do you know of Abolish?” Gohvis asked her.

Emiliana wasn’t sure how to answer that. It sounded like a loaded question.

The Monster answered for her. “You know only what the Vanguard wants you to know. You know half-truths and propaganda.”

“Enlighten me, then.”

“I will,” said Gohvis. “In time.”

The way he said that made Emiliana feel almost as if it were impossible to question him. If not for this stillness in her mind, she might have succumbed. “Why not now?” she asked.

Again, Gohvis took his time. “This is not the place for it.”

That made Emiliana look around. Rocky wilderness was all she saw--excepting, perhaps, the narrow valley in front of them. It did seem like a strange place for Gohvis to have stopped, and she was about to ask why when an interruption arrived.